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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25482448">A Matter of Reputation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin'>round_robin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Kaer Morhen, Kaer Morhen's Fanon Hot Springs (The Witcher), M/M, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Rimming, Service Top, Slut Jaskier | Dandelion, Winter At Kaer Morhen, Witchersexual Jaskier | Dandelion, Wolf Pack</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:02:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,929</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25482448</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The first year, Jaskier came as Geralt's guest, sharing the White Wolf's room and bed, but it didn't take long for that to change.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aiden/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Coën/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Coën/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Coën/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>114</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>827</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Jaskier or Geralt/others (with or w/out eachother)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>As usual, when I use the term "slut," it is with the fondest of intentions. Jaskier is open for all Witchers, and he's here for a good time.</p><p>This started as a desire to write Jaskier/Coën (which will happen... in chapter 2) and kind of morphed into "well, he likes them all, doesn't he?" I make no apologies for being a smut peddler. Please enjoy &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Every professional bard left Oxenfurt with some sort of reputation, even if that reputation never extended outside of Oxenfurt. Some—like Valdo Marx—had courtly reputations and little else. Set that foppish bastard in the middle of the country and he wouldn't be able to make enough coin for a crust of bread, but surround him with gossipy nobles and he truly shined. Other bards had reputations confined to a specific place. Priscilla wasn't well known outside of Novigrad and didn't stray far from the city's gates, lest her popularity (and her coin) dry up.</p><p>Jaskier was the rarified breed of bard who had a reputation <em>everywhere</em>, especially at Kaer Morhen.</p><p>The first year, he came as Geralt's guest, sharing the White Wolf's room and bed, but it didn't take long for that to change. Geralt was off on a hunt with Eskel, clearing out the network of caves around the mountain, flushing out harpies or bandits, or something. Jaskier waited all day for them to return, sulking to dinner, the anxiety in his belly getting worse and worse as the night wore on.</p><p>“Don't worry about them,” Lambert said, sliding closer to Jaskier at the dinner table. After a full day without Geralt's strong arms around him, Jaskier so wanted to lean into the young wolf's touch. “The beasts around here are nothing. Geralt and Eskel probably got too far away and had to take shelter when the sun started setting. They'll be back in the morning.” While Lambert was a good laugh and a good drinking buddy, he was rarely sincere. But Jaskier heard the warm fondness in his voice. Yes, they teased and pushed, but they all understood how deadly their brothers in arms were. Lambert believed they'd make it back, and now so did Jaskier.</p><p>“He's right,” Vesemir said. “I wouldn't worry. If they're not back by mid-morning tomorrow, I'll go out and scout. They will return, though, probably before you wake.”</p><p>Feeling a little better, Jaskier started to eat the food he only picked at for the last twenty minutes, then headed off to bed. “Hey,” Lambert called, chasing him down the hall. “You're not going to sleep if you're worried. Come to my room tonight. Better to wait with company.”</p><p>To this day, Jaskier didn't know what made him say yes. Maybe it was Lambert's roguish smile that was more than attractive, or possibly the familiarity they'd built over half a winter of laughing and joking together while Geralt scowled. Jaskier definitely felt a draw towards Lambert, almost how he felt drawn towards Geralt or Eskel, he just hadn't had the time to explore those thoughts. <em>Yet</em>.</p><p>He stopped off at Geralt's room and changed into his rarely used sleep clothes before heading down the hall. Lambert was stripped to his smalls, lounging across his bed, covers thrown towards the end. While his room was smaller, it was no less warm and cozy. Jaskier settled onto the edge of the bed. “Nah, let me keep you warm.” A thick arm looped around his shoulders, pulling him in. The heat that blazed from them all curled around Jaskier, chasing the anxiety from his chest for perhaps the first time since sunset. A scruffy chin settled on top of his shoulder and a deep, rumbling purr vibrated through Jaskier's back.</p><p>Though the bed was comfortable, and Jaskier's body was definitely reacting to the firm chest behind him, he squirmed a little, guilt quickly replacing the fear for Geralt. “Uh, Lambert,” Jaskier said. “Not that I don't appreciate the company, but I don't think—not while Geralt's out.”</p><p>They'd talked about it (briefly, and usually in the throes of passion) growled dirty chatter of, “I'd love to see you spread out for them. Eskel would make a fucking meal of you...” as Geralt bit down on Jaskier's neck. “Lambert wouldn't know where to put his hands. He'd want to touch you everywhere at once.” Geralt's intimate knowledge of the others led Jaskier to conclude that winter was a very <em>close</em> time for them all. He wasn't against participating... but not while Geralt and Eskel might be dead half way down the mountain.</p><p>Lambert's arms went slack around him. “It's not... I'm not trying to fuck you.” he propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at Jaskier. Lambert always had a smirk or a cheeky wink, this was perhaps the first time Jaskier saw his face truly open, no joking about it. “I can't sleep when they're gone either. Don't tell them I said that. Winter is, uh...” He took a deep breath, selecting his words carefully. Jaskier stayed perfectly still, he didn't want to interrupt whatever poetry might spout from the lips of the roughest wolf. “It's the only time of the year I'm... happy. With them. When you're not here, Geralt lets me sleep in his room. Eskel's been staying with me this year. I like having them near. When we can. So I know how you feel... not having. Him.”</p><p>The halting words were more honest and true than any sonnet or ballad Jaskier could write and tears started welling in his eyes. “Oh, Lambert, that's so—”</p><p>The scowl returned. “Hey, don't go blubbering on me. I just like sharing a bed. Don't make it weird.” With a soft <em>humf</em>, he lay back down, slowly sliding his arm around Jaskier's hips once again, gathering the blankets around them. This time, when Jaskier relaxed into the inhuman warmth behind him, he didn't feel the least bit guilty. “And don't you dare tell them I said any of that.”</p><p>“Promise.” With a warm bed, and a slow, steady heart behind him, Jaskier easily found sleep.</p><p>Shortly after dawn, Jaskier felt the bed dip on the other side of him. He opened one sleepy eye and saw a familiar curtain of white hair. Relief flooded through him, “Geralt, you're safe...” followed quickly by abject horror when he remembered whose bed he was in. “Fuck, I'm sorry.” Jaskier sat up, accidentally elbowing Lambert awake. “We didn't—nothing happened. I was worried, and Lambert—”</p><p>Chilly fingers settled over his lips, shushing him. Geralt was still in his armor, the smell of snow clinging to his hair. “You think I wanted you to spend the night alone? Lambert was good to keep you warm.”</p><p>Lambert grunted and pulled Jaskier in close, both of them watching with sleepy eyes as Geralt took off his armor. Leaving his shirt and breeches, he sat on top of the covers and gathered Jaskier to his chest again. “I wanted to make sure you knew I was back. We got held up by a rock slide and had to wait until first light to search a way around it.” He sniffed Jaskier's hair, blowing soft breaths through it and ruffling the already tangled locks. “Eskel and I are going down to the hot spring to wash up. You can stay here if you like, or...” Geralt dragged one knuckle over the gently rise of Jaskier's cheek, a new heat in his eyes that was entirely inappropriate for so early in the morning. “You can both move to my room. The bed is bigger.”</p><p>“I'll get him there,” Lambert said. “Now get off, you're getting dirt on my sheets.” Geralt released Jaskier with a smile and reached over to ruffle Lambert's hair roughly. Lambert went one further, leaning over Jaskier and snatching a kiss. Geralt let out a low growl, a noise Jaskier only heard the nights when Geralt was especially insatiable, but sounded natural between the two wolves sharing a quick kiss.</p><p>Well, things certainly opened up after that. Now, Jaskier had a reputation of being open to all Witchers, not just Geralt, which wasn't... <em>inaccurate</em>. He came during winter as Geralt's guest, but never turned away a Witcher who might want to share their bed, learning to enjoy the feel of an extra set of legs tangled up with his, or waking to the sounds of Eskel and Geralt enjoying a vigorous start to their day. While he wasn't a blushing virgin by any measure, Jaskier's carnal adventures were fairly standard. But he'd learned there was nothing standard when it came to Witchers.</p><p>The year Lambert brought a guest, Geralt sequestered them in his bedroom to have a serious discussion. “You don't have to,” he said.</p><p>Jaskier sighed. “Well, of course I don't have to, I'll fuck who I like thank you. I'd still like to meet the man, see if he's amenable to sharing Lambert's affection this year.” He swept in close, fingers toying with a buckle on Geralt's armor. Fuck, they'd only just arrived and already, the fog of winter was settling in. All Jaskier wanted to do for the next few months was fuck and eat Vesemir's amazing food, with some light chores on the side. People thought bards were heathens, they had nothing on a castle full of Witchers. “If you think I'm going more than one winter without the sight of you pounding Lambert while he shouts your name, you are mistaken.” He stepped away, smoothing the front of his breeches, already starting to get a little tight. “Here's hoping his guest likes that as much as I do.”</p><p>Jaskier didn't like to make assumptions about anyone, but the second he set eyes on Lambert's guest—curly brown hair with a rakish goatee, honeyed skin, and the brightest yellow eyes—his heart skipped a beat. “Fuck.” The word fell from his lips without thought, and three sets of golden eyes settled on him.</p><p>“Ah,” the guest said, striding over, Lambert in his wake. “You must be Jaskier. My name is Aiden, School of the Cat.”</p><p>While Geralt watched with sharp eyes as Jaskier shook the extended hand, he also paid attention to Lambert. He hadn't seen the prickly wolf looking so soft in years, his face almost glowing as he watched Aiden eye up Jaskier. “Lambert,” Geralt said. “We just got in, you can entertain Jaskier tomorrow night.”</p><p>Geralt had to pull Jaskier away from Aiden—literally. The way the Cat looked at Lambert, his eyes soft, yet protective and almost predatory, like he wanted nothing more than to devour Lambert, body and soul, Jaskier could definitely relate to that feeling. Geralt and Eskel had their series of fond little head tilts when watching Lambert and Jaskier together, enjoying the bard lavishing affection on the runt of their litter, but their hungry eyes couldn't hold a candle to the fire in Aiden's gaze.</p><p>“Tomorrow,” Geralt whispered into Jaskier's ear as they made their way upstairs. “Don't you want to spend a little time in my bed?”</p><p>“Of course I do.” Jaskier put Aiden out of his mind for the moment and ran his fingers through Geralt's hair, pressing kisses down his unfairly strong jaw. Oh, but they needed a bath, and probably a nap before dinner.</p><p>Geralt secured their things in his room and they went down to the hot spring, where Eskel was already spread out on a rock like a lizard in the sun. His eyes lit up when he saw them, sliding into the pool and swimming over to meet them. Eskel extended his arms and Jaskier fell into them, Geralt sliding in behind him, nibbling along his shoulders.</p><p>“Mmm, catch up later,” Geralt growled. “I want you both now.”</p><p>“My room's too cold, anyway,” Eskel grunted in agreement, his own teeth sucking red marks up Jaskier's neck. “Vesemir didn't light my fire, assumed I'd stay with you this year.”</p><p>“You should,” Jaskier whispered. Less than a minute after setting eyes on each other and he was already mostly incoherent, letting Eskel and Geralt do as they pleased. A hand brushed between his legs and Jaskier spread his thighs, giving that hand anything it wanted. Fingers teased his hole under the water, they didn't have any oil down here, but teasing was always allowed. With two sets of hands, two tongues and two ravenous mouths intent on driving him crazy, Jaskier gave himself over.</p><p>The heat of the cavern made him relaxed and loose, the finger brushing his hole hardly a challenge. “Upstairs,” Geralt finally whispered.</p><p>“Upstairs,” Eskel agreed.</p><p>Jaskier honestly had no idea how he ended up back in Geralt's large bed, he remembered a brief chill as they left the hot spring, but not much else. The bliss of winter settled over him and he arched into the warm hands sliding down his chest, bucking when one circled his cock. He could always tell Geralt's hands from Lambert's by the size and tapper of his fingers, but Eskel was so similar to the White Wolf, with his eyes closed, Jaskier didn't know who pressed two slick fingers inside him, only that they needed to keep going.</p><p>Eskel's chest was a bit wider than Geralt's, and Jaskier knew when he slid up behind him, the blunt head of his cock oiled and ready, teasing Jaskier's balls before sliding up and in. “Fuck, yes,” he groaned.</p><p>He looked down and saw a snowy white head resting against his stomach, golden eyes watching the pleasure on his face. Geralt and Eskel always took turns no matter how many time Jaskier said they could both have him together if they pleased. Geralt did dip his head down and lick at Jaskier's cock a few times, lapping up the precome as it continued to well at the tip, more of a gush than a drip at this point. He threaded his fingers through slightly damp hair, half thrusting into his mouth. “Yes, please.”</p><p>With Eskel behind him—absolutely ruining him with that fat cock—and Geralt's lips around his head, Jaskier did not last long. He groaned a half warning before bucking forward, spilling across Geralt's tongue. “Fuck,” he sighed.</p><p>Eskel shivered behind him, oversensitive as he pulled out. “Your turn,” he said to Geralt.</p><p>Jaskier was spent and nearly boneless between them. He watched with lazy eyes as Geralt pressed a kiss to his stomach and rolled off the bed, disappearing for a moment. The bed behind him dipped and another cock brushed his hole. “Ah, shit,” Jaskier gasped.</p><p>“Too much?” Geralt asked.</p><p>“No, never enough.” Eskel lay down next to him and Jaskier wasted no time pulling him in, kissing his lips quickly before lavishing kisses across the scarred side of Eskel's face. Eskel was shy about them and frankly, Jaskier didn't care. He kissed Geralt's scars like any other patch of skin, there was no reason Eskel didn't deserve the same treatment.</p><p>Already slick and open, Geralt had no trouble sliding in, pushing some of Eskel's come out in the process. “Mmm, you smell wonderful like this,” Geralt purred, hips rolling gently. “I wonder how you'll smell after Lambert and Aiden?”</p><p>“Oh fuck, you'll find out tomorrow...”</p><p>~</p><p>If Jaskier was being honest, dinner that night was a little unfair on Vesemir. The Old Wolf took one look at Jaskier—still probably stinking of Geralt and Eskel—then let his eyes slide to Aiden and Lambert, pressed together close on the bench, red welts all over Lambert's neck, and rolled his eyes. “The bard was bad enough, now I have a Cat to deal with. At least air out your rooms before you leave this year so I don't have to.”</p><p>Aiden wasn't just a pretty face, he was as engaging as any of the others, his stories a little more fraught. More than once, he had to cut off in the middle of a description as Vesemir glared across the table. “So sorry,” he apologized. “What I meant to say...”</p><p>The more Jaskier saw Aiden and Lambert together, the more his heart melted. The other wolves were more than kind to each other in bed, but they still pushed and shoved, playing and nipping like the pack animals they were. Aiden, however, absolutely drowned Lambert in affection. There were no little shoves to show fondness, but long, lingering looks and secretive little licks at Lambert's ear lobe. The best part had to be when Aiden rubbed against Lambert's side, his skin prickling at the prolonged contact. And the way Lambert's eyes went misty at the touch, fluttering closed... oh yes, Aiden was definitely good for Lambert, and Jaskier couldn't wait to see it up close.</p><p>After dinner the next night, Eskel and Geralt retreated to bed with a few last fond looks. Eskel blew him a kiss. “Have fun!” he teased before Geralt hauled him up the staircase.</p><p>“Alone at last,” Aiden purred. “Though your guard dogs are very pretty.”</p><p>“Hey,” Lambert grumbled, rising from his seat and walking around to Jaskier's side of the table, pulling him to his feet. “Don't forget, I'm one of those guard dogs.”</p><p>“You most certainty are.” Aiden rose to his feet with enviable grace. They were all far too graceful for their size (Jaskier had seen Geralt jump from a two story window and land on the balls of his feet like a fucking cat) but Aiden with his lithe muscle and narrower shoulders actually <em>looked</em> like a cat. Jaskier supposed the name of the school was fitting. “Come now.” He fluttered his fingers towards Lambert. “Let's go to bed.” With one arm around Jaskier, Lambert wrapped the other around Aiden, putting himself pointedly in the center as they walked up the stairs.</p><p>He opened the door to his bedroom and Jaskier immediately spotted a key difference—Lambert's narrow bed had been swapped for a larger model. Not as big as Geralt's, but a vast improvement. “Expecting company this winter?” he joked.</p><p>“Yes.” Without further ceremony, Lambert stripped his shirt and shucked his breeches with indecent speed, sprawling out in the middle of the bed, already bare before Aiden so much as closed the door. “Hurt up,” he called.</p><p>Aiden shook his head, clicking his tongue in mock reproach. “Thank goodness you're here tonight, Jaskier, you have no idea what he was like earlier. So rude.”</p><p>They stripped quickly and started towards the bed. “Wait.” Lambert held up one foot to stop them, offering a lovely view down his leg, all the way to his ass and gorgeous sac. “I want to see you two for a minute. Please?” He arched an eyebrow and Jaskier sighed.</p><p>“How can I refuse. Aiden?”</p><p>Aiden chuckled softly before moving in close, his chest pressing against Jaskier's, making the bard gasp softly. He slid a hand down to cup his ass gently. “You certainly are very understanding of their gruff ways.”</p><p>Their lips were a breath apart. Jaskier smiled, thrusting his hips against Aiden's. “Three winters now, I'm very used to it.” Sweet gods, had it really been three winters? Time flies when getting adequately fucked...</p><p>He closed the small distance between them and smiled at the twin gasps, one from Lambert at getting to watch his lovers together, and one from Aiden. While Jaskier wouldn't compare himself to the decades of experience each Witcher must have, he was no slouch. Licking under Aiden's top lip, his mouth opened a little wider, letting Jaskier show off his non-bardic talents.</p><p>Aiden was the first to pull away, that fire in his eyes once again. Geralt mentioned once that Cats had more free access to their emotions; watching it play across Aiden's face was truly a sight to behold. “How do you want him? Top or bottom?”</p><p>Ah, well, there was that to discuss, wasn't there? “I'm afraid my ass is a little... well used, from last night,” Jaskier admitted. “If you'd rather I watch, I have no problem—”</p><p>A deep, rolling chuckle, almost like a purr, vibrated from Aiden's chest. His arms still wrapped around Jaskier, he petted his ass softly before pulling back, retreating to the bed where Lambert was still sprawled, watching them with great interest. “No. He's in the middle, do you want top or bottom? He can take us both, it's only a question of if you want to be under him, or over him.”</p><p>All sorts of ideas filled Jaskier's head—Lambert sweaty, begging, fucking pleading with both of them wrapped around him, inside of him—so distracted by the mere idea of Lambert begging, Jaskier didn't notice the sly wolf moving to pull him into the bed. With a grunt of surprise, he barely caught himself before sprawling flat on Lambert's chest, the bastard smirking the whole time. “Talk in the bed, I'm cold.”</p><p>“Cheeky,” Aiden tisked, but climbed in anyway, wrapping his arms around Lambert and Jaskier.</p><p>Jaskier had been cocooned by the incredible heat of two Witchers many, many times, but the newness of Aiden sent a thrill through him, making his cock jerk and leak against Lambert. "What do you want?” he asked, sliding a hand down Lambert's side, stroking over now familiar scars. “Hm? How do you want us to treat you tonight.”</p><p>“Oh, fuck,” Lambert sighed. He shook himself, trying to concentrate when Jaskier and Aiden were doing their best to distract. “I want to see Jaskier's eyes,” his voice dropped, “while you both fuck me.”</p><p>While Jaskier was familiar with this particular position, he was usually in the middle of it all (and by usually, he meant twice... back at Oxenfurt) and all he had to do was lay there as the others got themselves into place. Aiden was good about arranging them, settling Jaskier on his back and nudging Lambert to straddle him. “You mind if I stretch him?” Aiden asked. “I do so love the noises he makes.”</p><p>“Go right ahead.” Somehow, Jaskier ended up with a front row seat to watch Aiden fingering Lambert open. How he got so lucky in the first place was up for debate, some god must love him, he decided.</p><p>The first slick touch had Lambert pushing back, trying to get more, his smirk still firmly in place. “Come on, I can take more than that,” he teased. Aiden arched an eyebrow and added a second finger, chuckling softly when Lambert's breath caught.</p><p>Cock resting heavy on Jaskier's stomach, he tried not to touch. It wouldn't do to have Lambert fall apart before they were all in place... Jaskier watched with bated breath as Lambert grunted at the stretch, arching and quivering a little. “Perfect,” Jaskier whispered, sliding his hands up his hips. “You're perfect.”</p><p>So consumed watching Lambert's face and enjoying the minute twitches of pleasure in his lips, Jaskier started a little when a slick hand wrapped around his prick. “Apologies,” Aiden whispered. “You want to get situated?”</p><p>“No.” Jaskier realized he wanted Aiden to touch him almost as much as he wanted to touch Lambert. Those warm fingers were just as appealing as any of the others', Jaskier definitely had a type and that type was Witcher, no matter the school. “Go ahead, I'll keep an eye on him.”</p><p>“Oh yeah,” Lambert chuckled. “Because I'm going to run off in the middle of <em>this</em>. No chance.”</p><p>Jaskier moaned softly at the new hand on his cock, lining him up with Lambert's hole. He'd never had help aiming before, definitely a new experience. Though he was draped across Jaskier's chest, Lambert tried to prop himself up and peer over his shoulder, he wanted to watch Aiden's hand on Jaskier's prick. “Mmm, none of that.” Jaskier still had enough mental focus to hook the side of Lambert's chin with a finger, guiding their eyes back together. “You'll spoil the surprise.”</p><p>Lambert tried to pull one of those smug little faces of his, but it was very difficult to be smug with a cock slowly pushing into you. “S-surprise,” he tripped over the word, hands balling into the sheets around Jaskier's shoulders. “I've ridden your cock before, Jaskier. I know what it feels like.”</p><p>Aiden leaned forward over Lambert's shoulder, biting lightly at his ear. “Yes, but you've never felt it next to my cock before. Now shush.”</p><p>Lambert wiggled his hips, getting seated on Jaskier's cock. He threw his head back and sighed as it slid in a little more, stretching in all the right places. “Fuck yes.”</p><p>Jaskier pulled him down again, kissing those surprisingly soft lips rosy as Aiden stroked Lambert's back, enjoying the closeness. Jaskier tried not to thrust too much—they had a whole second act to get to—but he couldn't resist the heat of Lambert's body. He gasped when two fingers brushed the base of his cock, sliding up towards Lambert's hole, stretching him <em>more</em>. He tried to remember the last time he'd had two partners share his body so intimately, what it felt like, but Jaskier's brain was now pleasantly empty, occupied only with thoughts of Lambert's lips and Aiden's fingers.</p><p>“Kiss me,” Jaskier whispered against Lambert's lips.</p><p>“I am kissing y-yoooo...” his words trailed off into another gasping moan. They both felt it, the fat head of Aiden's cock replacing his fingers, pushing in, no way to stop it other than to just let it happen. Lambert's eyes scrunched closed, his chest heaving as he breathed through it. “F-fuck.”</p><p>Jaskier was having a time of it as well. There was a gush of slick inside Lambert, so much oil, he thought it unnecessary, until he felt the slow slide of Aiden's cock across his. Being pressed together so closely inside of Lambert, Jaskier almost couldn't take it. “Aiden, oh... Aiden, fuck.”</p><p>The Cat purred, apparently unphased by the whole thing. He rested his cheek against the back of Lambert's shoulder, giving an experimental thrust and getting two groans for his trouble. “Do you mind if I take the lead?”</p><p>“By all means, be my guest.” Jaskier barely managed to keep the shake out of his voice, then Aiden started to thrust and all bets were off.</p><p>And Lambert, fucking Lambert, wrapped around them both, his impossibly tight body squeezing everywhere, how he wasn't a moaning wreck was anyone's guess. Jaskier summoned strength from deep inside and cupped Lambert's cheek, stroking the pad of his thumb under his eye. That golden gaze locked with his and Jaskier couldn't help but pull him down, resting their foreheads together so he could look deep into those liquid gold eyes as Aiden took them both apart.</p><p>“You're fucking gorgeous,” he mumbled against Lambert's lips.</p><p>The pressure, the heat of the two Witchers on top of him, it was too much. Jaskier's hips stuttered and he came, filling Lambert. Aiden's continued thrusts pushed his come right back out again, soaking them both. Jaskier moaned at how filthy it all was, yet Lambert's eyes were still looking deep into his, lovely and tender and just fucking beautiful.</p><p>He was barely coherent enough to wrap a hand around Lambert's cock. It didn't take much to push him over, and the clench of his muscles, the pure crush of his body pulled Aiden along too. Jaskier watched, eyes wide in awe, as the two fell apart above him, Lambert turning at the last moment to drag his lips across Aiden's jaw, whispering too low for Jaskier to hear. He stroked a hand down Lambert's cheek, touching him however he could.</p><p>How Aiden managed to keep himself together through the whole production was a mystery. He pulled out, guiding Lambert onto the bed before stepping away and fetching a wet cloth to clean up. Jaskier couldn't let go of Lambert, he pulled him close, their noses still pressed together. “Fuck,” Lambert whispered, eyes dropping closed. “Stay tonight?”</p><p>“If you think I'm leaving, you're insane.” Jaskier kissed across his face, licking the sweat away where ever he found it. He simply did not want to stop touching.</p><p>The bed dipped on Lambert's other side and Aiden wrapped himself around them both, arranging the blankets for sleep. “I don't want you to neglect your other wolves, but I wouldn't mind your company this winter.”</p><p>“We'll work out a schedule,” Lambert mumbled, already drifting off.</p><p>Aiden chuckled and nosed at the back of his neck, but Jaskier wasn't laughing. Oh yes, they'd definitely figure out a schedule.</p><p>~</p><p>Vesemir got used to Jaskier's room hopping. Whenever he set off to look for him before breakfast—they were supposed to be reorganizing the library together—he ended up checking every room, just in case.</p><p>Year after year, whether Aiden came to stay or not, the bard could always be found in a different bed than the one he was supposed to be in. Some nights, he couldn't sleep and wandered the halls in search of Eskel, dragging him back to Geralt's bed. Other nights, he simply had too much to drink and ended up in Lambert's room after he couldn't find his way in the dark. None of them minded, that was the way of winter, one set of warm arms or another, it didn't matter. Jaskier was an honorary member of the pack and there'd never be any jealousy when it came to his sleeping arrangements.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I am <a href="https://round--robin.tumblr.com">round--robin</a> on tumblr.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You need to be nice. Coën is... different.”</p><p>“Different,” Jaskier repeated flatly. “What? Does he have two cocks?” Geralt said nothing and Jaskier's eyes mouth fell open, suddenly filled with morbid curiosity. “Fuck, does he?”</p><p>“No," Geralt said. "Coën is from the School of the Griffin. They have a sense of honor to them. He's not like Aiden, you can't crawl into Lambert's bed with him and expect things to go smoothly.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I set out to write Jaskier/Coën and here it finally is... after a Jaskier/almost everybody detour.</p><p>Coën made an appearance in my series "The Exhalation of Wolves" and I liked that characterization of him--shy and courtly, very noble--so I kept him mostly the same here. Don't worry, he'll still be filthy in bed, no doubts there.</p><p>Enjoy &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Geralt stopped them just inside the courtyard gates. They weren't far enough inside to get a break from the wind and Jaskier shivered. “Is everything alright?” he asked.</p><p>“Yes.” Geralt smelled it a few minutes ago, but now his eyes confirmed another horse in their stables, a large chestnut creature, almost the same color as Roach, but much bigger, probably part draft horse by the look of it. Aiden wasn't wintering over this year and none of the others needed a new horse, which meant the steed belonged to only one other person. Coën.</p><p>Geralt grabbed Jaskier and moved them further into the courtyard where they'd be sheltered from the wind, but no farther. He kept a hold of his arm as he spoke. “It looks like Coën is staying this year.”</p><p>Jaskier's eyes lit up. “Oh, another Witcher? I'm sure I'll be glad to meet him. Inside. Where it's warm.”</p><p>He tried to push past but Geralt held firm, their eyes meeting. “You need to be nice. Coën is... different.”</p><p>“Different,” Jaskier repeated flatly. “What? Does he have two cocks?” Geralt said nothing and Jaskier's eyes mouth fell open, suddenly filled with morbid curiosity. “Fuck, does he?”</p><p>“No, not that I've noticed.” Geralt ducked his head. They were at Kaer Morhen, talk of winter bed partners was safe here, but in the courtyard he still felt... exposed. “Coën is from the School of the Griffin. They have a sense of honor to them. He's not like Aiden, you can't crawl into Lambert's bed with him and expect things to go smoothly.”</p><p>“Ah, an honorable Witcher, like I haven't met one of those before.” A shiver ran through him, teeth chattering a bit. “I understand, don't be too much of a slut around Coën, can we please go inside now?”</p><p>Geralt sighed at him, but they continued on anyway, getting Roach settled before entering the large front doors. Vesemir did a good job warming the cold halls and Jaskier felt the chill in his bones start to melt the second the doors closed behind them. Vesemir came to greet them as usual and they headed up to Geralt's room, Jaskier wondering all the while what this Griffin was truly like. Surely, Geralt was being over cautious, but Jaskier had yet to meet a Witcher he didn't immediately love—even Vesemir caught his eye after enough drinks. He didn't let it trouble him and rubbed against Geralt, their clothes now littering the floor.</p><p>That night at dinner, there was one more body at the table. Eskel sat with his head bent towards another man, this one with a large bald head and bushy beard. His eyes snapped up to see who entered the dining hall and instead of the usual gold, they were a sickly yellow-green. But this man was obviously a Witcher through and through, he had the muscle and the build for it.</p><p>Pausing his conversation with Eskel, he stood up and stopped in front of Jaskier, bowing low. “Hello, my name is Coën. I'm very pleased to meet the Bard of Kaer Morhen.”</p><p>“Ugh,” Lambert groaned from the other end of the table. “His ego's big enough, don't feed it.”</p><p>Coën looked down his nose at Lambert, but Jaskier saw a small sparkle of fondness in his eye. “A bard is a noble profession, they sing the praises of knights and worthy kings.”</p><p>“You're the only knight here, Coën. Or close enough.” Geralt sat down at the table, giving Lambert a small shove until there was enough room for Jaskier to sit between them.</p><p>Jaskier ignored them and returned the bow. “Lovely to meet you, Coën. I'm Jaskier. You have been correctly informed as to my profession. Care to share any stories of The Path? There might be a song with your name in it come spring.”</p><p>They spent the rest of the night sharing stories like usual, Jaskier hanging on every word. Vesemir's mouth pressed into a tight line when Coën spoke of his school's history of dragon hunts and Jaskier didn't inquire further. Last year, Eskel let it slip that most Cats weren't allowed at Kaer Morhen because they didn't keep to the code all Witchers were supposed to revere, Vesemir made special allowances for Aiden on account of Lambert; it was beginning to seem each of the schools had more differences than they had similarities. The idea of learning more intrigued Jaskier, but the low fire of anger flared in his belly. Humans painted all Witchers with the same brush, whether they deserved it or not, when clearly, they were just as distinct and complex as any other person in the world.</p><p>After watching Coën's sickly eyes all night, Jaskier decided the yellow-green was just as beautiful as gold. All Witchers were beautiful to him.</p><p>When Jaskier found himself too many cups in and trying to lean into Coën's lap, the Griffin moved away, clearing his throat. “I will retire, I think, too much ale for the first night.” Jaskier was too squiffy to put two and two together until he saw the faint blush on Coën's cheeks when their eyes met. <em>Well then</em>.</p><p>Geralt dragged Jaskier up to bed shortly after, pulling him out of his clothes for the second time that day. “Was I too forward?” he mumbled into the pillows. Damn Lambert, kept filling his mug when he wasn't looking, Jaskier really didn't mean to drink so much...</p><p>“Yes, but you'd always be too forward for Coën.” Geralt stripped his own clothes, climbing in bed and wrapping around Jaskier. “Don't worry, he loosens up as the winter goes on. Might be able to convince him to double team Lambert with you again.”</p><p>Jaskier perked up. “Really?”</p><p>“Probably not.” Geralt slid his nose up the back of his neck, breathing him in, his half hard cock poking Jaskier's ass. “Let me watch him and Eskel fuck once, that's about as exotic as Coën gets. Fucking honorable Griffins...” he trailed off, hips starting to rub and thrust a little more insistently. “Do you mind if I—?”</p><p>“Go ahead.” Jaskier was a little too drunk to do anything, but fuck if he didn't love the sounds Geralt made pumping away at him. He closed his eyes and listened to those soft grunts, and the warm gush of seed on his back as he drifted off to sleep.</p><p>~</p><p>As Geralt said, Coën did relax. The first few mornings he showed up to training in full armor, after a week, he was in his gambeson, and a few more days after that, he was down to his shirt just like the others. Though he was serious and professional when it came to practice—not giving in to Lambert's plan to sneak up on Geralt and push him into the water barrel—he laughed and joked afterwards, joining Eskel for a dip in the hot spring while Geralt continued to work on footwork with Lambert.</p><p>Jaskier enjoyed attending morning trainings, watching from the sides as his wolves grunted and snarled playfully, their full skill set on glorious display without the threat of blood or death. More than once, he saw Coën's eyes flick over to him before he returned his attention to his training partner. While Geralt seemed to think Jaskier's usual approach of sitting in Coën's lap and continuing from there wouldn't work, Jaskier was optimistic. Eskel was mum about the whole thing, but Lambert tried to help.</p><p>“Coën's great in the sack, all hands and tongue. He wants to make you feel good, does anything you want...” His eyes went distant for a moment, remembering warm winter afternoons holed up together when the snow was too driving to train in the courtyard. Jaskier snapped his fingers in front of hazy eyes, bringing Lambert back to their conversation. “He's like Eskel, enjoys poetry and epic stories. Might let you fuck him in the library.” Lambert nudged Jaskier in the ribs, giving him a conspiratorial wink. “I'll put in a good word.”</p><p>Jaskier hadn't examined the idea that his winter lovers were also his best wing-men, but things were complicated when it came to Witchers, and he left the whole business alone. The library, though, that was promising. He and Vesemir were organizing some of the more chaotic shelves, no reason he couldn't <em>run into</em> Coën there...</p><p>As luck would have it, he did come across Coën in the library. Unfortunately, he promised Vesemir he'd clear one of the more rickety shelves today so they could remove it for repair, and had to get to work. Coën nodded in greeting and returned to his book, humming under his breath every now and again. Jaskier recognized the tune, but couldn't place it.</p><p>“What's the song?” he asked.</p><p>Strange greenish eyes looked up from his book. “It's a song from Poviss, about the mountains.”</p><p>Jaskier paused and set his arm load of books down on a nearby table. “I haven't heard many songs from Poviss, it's far out of range of most traveling bards. How's it go?”</p><p>Coën shrugged and returned his attention to his book, cheeks tinting the softest pink. “I don't remember the words, only the tune. My apologies.”</p><p>“No need to apologize. I'll see if I can find out about it when I return to Oxenfurt next year, they have a wonderful library.” He nodded towards the old shelves, overflowing with tomes and scrolls. Vesemir tried his best to find some order but it was difficult taking care of a whole keep by himself for most of the year. “Larger than Kaer Morhen's library to be sure, but I don't think there's a better collection on beasts and magic to be found.”</p><p>“Kaer Seren's library was almost as big as the one at Oxenfurt,” Coën said, voice soft. He pointed to a shelf on the opposite side of the room, most of the volumes on it were crumpled or bent with some visible water damage. “Those are all I could recover from our library after the keep was destroyed.” Jaskier's lips turned down in a frown and Coën shook his head. “We weren't... it wasn't like what happened here. An avalanche overtook Kaer Seren.” His eyes lingered on the shelf with the School of the Griffin books. “I knew Vesemir would take care of what few treasures I could bring him.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “And now, I know you will too.”</p><p>It was Jaskier's turn to hide his blush. “I will take the best care of any treasure Kaer Seren produced.” <em>Including its Witchers</em>, he didn't say out loud. They continued in companionable silence after that, Coën rising a bit before dinner and heading back to his room, nodding to Jaskier as he left.</p><p>“Any closer to fucking Coën?” Geralt asked when Jaskier returned to their room.</p><p>Jaskier rolled his eyes and fell into Geralt's arms, snatching a kiss before tugging off his shirt. It might be an old, crumbling castle in the mountains, but Jaskier still liked to change for dinner. He paused for a moment, letting Geralt run his hands over the bit of extra gathered at Jaskier's navel. Vesemir always tried to fatten them up and the winter cushioning was nice; Geralt liked stroking his belly, squeezing the new softness that would be gone before summer.</p><p>“A little. I'll take any tips you have. Already got some off Lambert.”</p><p>“Let him come to you,” Geralt said. “Coën doesn't like to be swept off his feet, he prefers doing the sweeping.”</p><p>Jaskier paused, then shook himself. “I didn't expect an answer. Thank you, that is helpful.” He shrugged into a clean shirt. “Fuck, you're all trying to help me fuck someone else. I must say, it's a little odd.”</p><p>“Mmm, don't worry about me.” Geralt grabbed him again, slotting their bodies together and pressing his half hard cock to Jaskier's hip. Geralt's body heat radiated through their clothes and had to stifle a groan. “I know whose bed you'll be in tonight.” He leaned down for another kiss, this one long and slow, tasting Jaskier's lips before they were stained with meat and ale for the rest of the night. Jaskier moaned and leaned in, opening his mouth, inviting Geralt in further...</p><p>Geralt pulled away, smirking at the irritated little dent between the bard's eyebrows. “Dinner's ready, wouldn't want to be late.”</p><p>~</p><p>While getting romance advice from one's romantic partners was all sorts of strange, it wasn't the strangest thing Jaskier had ever come across at Kaer Morhen. That honor went to the time he stumbled across on Lambert and Aiden having sex on the side of one of the ruined towers. Literally, on the side. Balanced on a thin stone ledge, Lambert pushed into the side of the tower, Aiden pounding away from behind... Gods knew how they got up there, some sort of Cat School fuckery. Jaskier almost had a heart attack as he crossed the courtyard to tend to the animals. So, yes, romance advice from Geralt as Geralt thrust into Jaskier in the night was practically normal around here.</p><p>While Jaskier was perfectly happy to sit on Coën's lap at dinner and just have at it there, holding back seemed to work. Every time they crossed paths in the library, Coën spoke more. They discussed books, favorite poets, and theatre. One day, Eskel stopped in and they started a discussion about whether the original staging of “The Wish Fish” was better than the revival twenty years later. Eskel had seen the first performance, because of course he had; he was more of a theatre snob than Jaskier at times.</p><p>“They never should have added the Fishmonger's Daughter,” Eskel said, leaning back on the arm of the reading chair Jaskier sat in. Coën sat on the sofa across from them, but as they spoke, he started leaning closer, almost near enough to touch now. “It was an amalgamation of two different characters—the Town Virgin, and the Daughter—but the original pages were lost and no one but me can remember the Town Virgin's fucking lines.”</p><p>“I'm pretty sure virgins aren't supposed to have any <em>fucking</em> lines at all,” Jaskier drawled.</p><p>“Ha!” A great belly laugh burst out of Coën and the tips of Jaskier's ears were suddenly warm.</p><p>Eskel's eyes flicked between Coën and Jaskier. “I have to go,” he said suddenly, standing up and nearly running to the door. “I promised Geralt I'd help him repair the west wall. See you at dinner!” And with that, Eskel disappeared into the hall, pulling the library doors closed behind him.</p><p>Jaskier shook his head and rose from the chair with a groan. Battle scarred and damaged, Kaer Morhen somehow had the most comfortable library chairs Jaskier had ever sat in, perfect for reading and falling asleep in, he almost wanted to drag one up to Geralt's room for the winter. “I need to get back to work. I still have half a shelf to get through.” The library project was slow going, he started it with Vesemir three years ago and it didn't feel like they'd made any progress.</p><p>Coën leaned back on the sofa to let Jaskier pass, but at the last second, a hand shot out, quick as a snake and wrapped around Jaskier's wrist, bringing him to a stop. “Do you have to?” Coën asked, voice low. “I, uh, I enjoyed our conversation.”</p><p>Jaskier tried not to let his smile split his whole face. Geralt, Lambert and Eskel (not to mention Aiden) were more than happy to roll over or let Jaskier climb on at the drop of a hat. He forgot the excitement of wooing someone, the first tentative touches, skin singing with sensitivity. Coën's touch was warm against his wrist and Jaskier wanted nothing more than to feel those hands touch him <em>everywhere</em>. “Sure, I can finish tomorrow. Which version of The Wish Fish did you like best?”</p><p>He settled on the couch a respectable distance away, eyes going wide when Coën moved closer, their thighs brushing together. “The Kessen adaptation, the one with the puck playing the trombone.”</p><p>The Wish Fish started as a subtle morality play, warning the poor folk of the world to be careful what they wished for; if a man offered you a fish, take him at his word, if a man offered a castle, check to see if he's holding a knife in the other hand. After less than twenty years, the play morphed into a vehicle to spread the bawdy ballad of the Fishmonger's Daughter, which was written by the playwright's brother-in-law, who owned a printing press and wanted to make some quick cash selling the sheet music to punters. While Jaskier didn't care one fig for this, he had to concentrate on what he remembered from his musical history classes, or risk noticing how fucking close Coën's lips were right now, or how hot his thigh was.</p><p>“Uh, yes,” Jaskier said stupidly. “Taking the setting from the seaside to an enchanted wood was a... bold decision. The puck was good comic relief...”</p><p>“Jaskier,” Coën whispered. He lifted his hand, stroking his knuckles gently across Jaskier's cheek. “May I kiss you?”</p><p>Jaskier braced his hand on Coën's knee, leaning in as close as he dared. “Yes,” he whispered a little too coy for his usual flirting; Jaskier didn't do coy, he didn't do any shade of demure, but for Coën, he'd sure as hell let the Griffin take the lead. Winter chapped lips met his and Jaskier swooned. Good thing they were already sitting. He parted his lips and felt a soft tongue brush his bottom lip before pressing in, swallowing his shivery sighs.</p><p>Forgetting his vow to take it slow with Coën, Jaskier couldn't help but climb into his lap, deepening the kiss and feeling the stirring erection he waited all winter to see. He caught glimpses of strong thighs in the hot spring, but never anything more. Coën gasped at the movement and broke the kiss, but stayed close, rubbing his nose up Jaskier's cheek. “Lambert has informed me of your <em>reputation</em>. They won't mind at all? I don't want to go where I'm not welcome.”</p><p>“You are most welcome,” Jaskier breathed. “Most welcome indeed.”</p><p>Jaskier kissed Coën again before the shy Griffin got any second thoughts. He meant to slid his tongue in, gently stroking over Coën's lips, but then Coën surprised him again, taking the lead. Arms tightened around him, one curled at his waist, the other cupping the back of his neck, pulling Jaskier flush to that broad chest. An insistent tongue licked across his lips and Jaskier's mouth went slack. He made the most embarrassing sounds—moaning, little coos and whines—but Coën kept going, slowly licking inside his mouth, swallowing every noise Jaskier produced.</p><p>Their lips parted with a wet smack and Jaskier almost whined at the loss. Coën chuckled, stroking a thumb down Jaskier's cheek. “Vesemir will call for dinner soon. I'd rather... wait. If you don't mind.”</p><p>“Wait,” Jaskier repeated, his mind slowly catching up to the moment. “That's, that's fine, yes.”</p><p>Strong arms lifted him and set Jaskier on his feet. He surprised himself by remaining upright when there was absolutely no blood in his head. Coën placed a small kiss high on his cheek—very chaste after what just transpired—and nodded. “I'll see you at dinner.”</p><p>“Yes, see you...” He gave a half wave at Coën's retreating back. As soon as the library doors closed, Jaskier fell back onto the sofa, body loose and mushy. “Fuck.”</p><p>See, the thing was, Jaskier wasn't just acquainted with Witchers—happy to be taken by their superior experience—he could hold his own. He was, frankly, excellent in bed, more than able to keep up with their decades of experience, his clever tongue and nimble fingers wringing passionate pleas to “Don't stop, never stop,” from Geralt <em>and</em> Eskel. Lambert was more fond of chanting, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” over and over as Jaskier took him apart (with or without Aiden's assistance). Despite Geralt's insistence that Coën was different, Jaskier did not expect to be so surprised by these turns of events.</p><p>Somewhat recovered, he managed to stand up and walk upstairs to change for dinner. “Must let them take the lead more,” he mumbled to himself. Oh yes, that was definitely the next order of business.</p><p>~</p><p>There was nothing unusual about dinner that night. Vesemir brought down a large stag the day before and cooked it to perfection, they all ate and chatted about their days, what needed doing around the keep, Lambert tried to con Eskel into a game of Gwent he'd definitely loose, all ordinary dinner conversations when spending a winter with Witchers. And yet...</p><p><em>And yet</em>...</p><p>Jaskier's eyes didn't leave Coën all night. He tried not to stare, but now that he'd tasted those lips, felt the heat and power in those arms, part of him wanted to sprawl across the table and let Coën have him right in front of Vesemir. The others definitely noticed Jaskier's mood, Geralt and Eskel exchanging gruff little chuckles while Lambert openly poked him in the side, waggling his eyebrows as his gaze darted between Jaskier and Coën.</p><p>Shortly after Vesemir retired for the night, Coën rose from his seat as well. Yellow-green eyes landed on Jaskier and his lips curled into a fond smile. “Jaskier, would you like to join me for a nightcap?”</p><p><em>He likes to do the sweeping</em>, Geralt's advice echoed inside his ears and Jaskier barely held himself back from jumping out of his seat and landing in Coën's arms. “Yes, that sounds lovely. I'm tired of Lambert's moonshine, let's see what kind of spirits School of the Griffin prefers.”</p><p>Bending at the waist, Coën offered his crooked elbow. Jaskier was trembling like a maiden on her wedding night and he absolutely did not care. He'd endure Lambert's teasing jabs tomorrow, enjoying Coën's eyes on him right now.</p><p>“Have a good night,” Coën said to the others.</p><p>As they walked from the dining hall, Jaskier heard a whoop of triumph. “A full month, pay up!” Lambert said.</p><p>The dining hall doors closed behind them and Jaskier saw Coën's frown. He rubbed his shoulder, leaning in closer. “They don't mean it to hurt.”</p><p>“Yes, I know. I simply enjoy my privacy.” A wicked little gleam entered his eyes as they turned up the stairs. “At first.”</p><p>Before Jaskier could even parse the implications—Geralt watching them, Geralt joining them, oh, or maybe Eskel—Coën bent over, using his free arm to knock Jaskier's legs out from under him, lifting him into a bridal carry. “You, you don't have to—” he stammered, heart already pounding in his throat. Geralt said Coën liked to be the sweeper, he didn't think he meant literally.</p><p>“I'd like to. If you don't mind.” Well, how could he say no to that?</p><p>Jaskier hadn't visited any of the guest quarters in Kaer Morhen. Aiden always stayed in Lambert's room, and most of the unused bedrooms looked half destroyed, picked clean of desirable furniture by the remaining Wolves. Coën's quarters were neat and orderly, and didn't have much of the personality of Geralt or Eskel's rooms, but the fire blazed in the hearth and the bed looked clean and soft. Coën's gear was stacked neatly off to the side of the room, his alchemy bag closer to the bed. And there, Jaskier saw in the low light of the fire, a large bottle of oil, sitting right next to the bed. Coën may be slow to woo, but at least he wouldn't be slow about this. Jaskier started to tingle with anticipation.</p><p>Coën settled him on the bed and turned to close the door. Jaskier leaned back, untying his shoes and setting them on the floor before starting on the laces of his breeches. “Wait,” Coën said. “I'd like to do that.” The tremble was back and Jaskier suddenly didn't trust his voice. He nodded and lay back on the bed, waiting for Coën to make the next move.</p><p>Shrugging out of his tunic and undershirt, intense eyes settled on Jaskier, large hands going to the ties of his breeches. The usual pattern of sword callouses were there, a few scars, but he was so gentle, so tender as he eased Jaskier's breeches down over his hips, leaving his smalls for the moment and pulling him out of his tunic. The others weren't rough by any means, but Coën's delicate, slow pace made everything feel so soft. Jaskier was already melting into the bed under those intense eyes, and soon enough, he'd be a puddle.</p><p>Fingers caressed every new patch of exposed skin and finally, when Jaskier was bare on the bed, Coën leaned down and pressed his lips to one of the few scars the bard had. “Oh, fuck...” he hissed, arching into the touch. Coën wasn't even naked yet and Jaskier was already falling apart, how was he going to last the night like this?</p><p>Jaskier's hands scrambled to hold onto Coën as the Griffin made his way slowly and methodically across his chest, kissing over Jaskier's ribs, licking at his belly button. The familiar tapestry of scars covered Coën, Jaskier was sure, but he could only feel them as his hands gripped. His eyes feel closed, lost to the deep pleasure of Coën's kisses and licks. Teeth latched onto a nipple and he cried out. “Please! Please, don't make me wait.”</p><p>A low, rumbling chuckle vibrated through Jaskier's sternum. “As you wish.” Retreating a little, Coën unbuttoned his breaches, giving Jaskier his first look at his new Witcher.</p><p>It must be something in the mutations, there was no other explanation. Each school had their own formula to gift their students with different traits, but they all apparently desired thick cocks. Jaskier hated the tortures Geralt, Eskel and Lambert had to go through, it could never be worth it in his mind, and yet, as soon as he set his eyes on their glorious figures—toned arms and legs with a solid layer of cushioning fat around the middle, the body of the perfect hunter—Jaskier felt his brain dissolve a little more. Yes, he hated the methods, but he could not argue with the results.</p><p>Coën rested one hand at the base of his thick cock, long and dusky pink, the head already leaking. Dark curls curled at the base, darker somehow that his black beard. Jaskier licked his lips. “Can I?” he whispered. He didn't usually ask for a cock—begged, pleaded, demanded, yes—but Coën seemed the sort to like that.</p><p>He chuckled, giving himself a stroke before kneeling on the bed again, between Jaskier's spread thighs. “After.”</p><p>Jaskier didn't get a chance to ask “After what?” because Coën's tongue was suddenly lapping <em>behind </em>his balls, and words were no longer necessary. Those rough hands pushed Jaskier's legs back, settling them on broad shoulders as Coën's tongue licked across his sac and behind. He wanted to tangle his hands in hair, hold on tight like he did with Geralt or Eskel, but gripping a beard wasn't as nice and Jaskier dropped his hands to the bed instead, clawing at the sheets.</p><p>After the first few delicious licks, Coën manhandled Jaskier onto his stomach, pausing to place a pillow under Jaskier's hips before going back to his very fine work. This time, that tongue circled his hole, the hair of Coën's surprisingly soft beard ticking the inside of Jaskier's thighs, adding another layer of sensation. It wasn't soft like Geralt's silken hair, more like the wool of a sheep, a little coarse if rubbed the wrong way, but warm and cushioning.</p><p>“Oh, oh—Coën—” Jaskier gasped. Firm hands on his hips held him down and spit began to drip over his balls. “Coën, <em>fuck</em>.”</p><p>Coën did not respond to any of Jaskier's pleas, content to drive him insane in silence. The flat of his tongue finally licked from Jaskier's hole all the way up his crack, flicking across the top of his cheeks before disappearing. The bed dipped and Coën rolled him over again, onto his side. Arms encircling Jaskier's waist, Coën got to work lavishing kisses and licks along his cock. The fingers of one hand slipped down his cleft, rubbing over Jaskier's spit slicked hole, not pressing in, just making maddening little circles around and around.</p><p>“Coën, fuck, Coën, please...” Jaskier's vocabulary consisted of those three words, and Coën hadn't even fucked him yet. It reminded him of the first time pressed between Geralt and Eskel, being the object of so much focused attention was a heady experience.</p><p>All too soon, Jaskier felt his orgasm building. “No...” he whined. Coën stopped, tongue stilling. Jaskier came back to himself long enough to scratch encouragingly along his back. “Not no to you, no I don't want it to end. I don't want to come yet.”</p><p>Coën pulled off and kissed around the base of Jaskier's cock, then up his quivering stomach. “Don't worry. There will be more tonight.” Oh, why did that sound so ominous? Coën's mouth returned to his cock and Jaskier moaned, his orgasm building faster, faster, until—</p><p>The noises that came out of Jaskier's mouth weren't solid words, some combination of wanton moans and garbled elder tongue. The whole of Jaskier's brain emptied out his cock, heat shooting down his spine, filling his pelvis and spurting into Coën's mouth, who—bless him—swallowed diligently, not a single drop falling into that beautiful beard.</p><p>Coën pulled away just as Jaskier became to sensitive and pressed soft kisses over his thighs and hips, easing him onto his back. Each kiss sent more sparks of pleasure dancing across Jaskier's skin, almost too much, but he needed more. After weeks of coy glances and shy blushing, all that build up, it couldn't be over this quickly.</p><p>“Please,” he mumbled, arms flailing out to touch any part of Coën he could find.</p><p>“Take a breath,” Coën whispered, spooning up behind Jaskier, his hard cock settling into the cleft of his ass. “Let me know when you're ready.”</p><p>The soft wool texture of Coën's beard brushed Jaskier's shoulder, sparking more little tremors. His cock twitched valiantly, wanting more <em>now</em>. He was used to insatiable Witchers, he could go again. “Please,” Jaskier said, shoving his hips back rather pointedly. “I want you inside of me.”</p><p>“Hmm, alright.”</p><p>One slick finger traveled up his crack and Jaskier chuckled. “Dearest, you've seen the others. I can take more than that.”</p><p>“Oh, I thought as much.” The tip—just the tip—slid in before retreating. “But I like to take my time.” Jaskier groaned, then gasped as that first finger slid into the second knuckle before withdrawing again. Oh, this was going to be a long night...</p><p>After what felt like <em>hours</em> of Coën slowly working him open, Jaskier was about ready to sob with pleasure and frustration. Coën hit his prostate head on, rubbing, massaging it until Jaskier was leaking precome, but all he wanted was that heavy cock, he needed it. Finally, Coën took pity on him. Three fingers retreated, replaced by the wide head of Coën's cock.</p><p>“Yes!” Jaskier gasped, arching like a bow, reaching both arms back and grabbing whatever he could. Spooned together as they were, all of Coën's bulk was pressed against him, sweat making their skin slide together so deliciously. “Yes, please, give it to me.”</p><p>There was no teasing this time, no slow slide, just the unrelenting <em>push</em> of a thick Witcher cock into Jaskier. Coën's hips were flush with the plush swell of Jaskier's ass, lips brushing the top of his shoulder. One hand came down to circle his cock, stroking softly, hips twitching, seating firmly. No more waiting, Coën pulled his hips back, thrusting in with enough force to push Jaskier off the bed if it weren't for the strong arms holding him.</p><p>Coën fucked him through another orgasm, an endless stream of sounds falling from his lips. “More?” he whispered into Jaskier's hair. “I'll give you as much as you want.”</p><p>“More, yes, more,” Jaskier replied.</p><p>When he was about to reach his third peak, Coën's thrusts became a little more erratic. He bit down on the top of Jaskier's shoulder, growling softly. “Are you satisfied?” he growled.</p><p>“Yes.” Jaskier was a sweaty, panting mess speared on Coën's cock, the idea that he <em>wasn't</em> satisfied was frankly a little insulting. He wanted to hear Coën shout his pleasure now, needed to hear how good Jaskier made him feel.</p><p>Biting harder, sure to leave a bruise Jaskier would treasure for days, Coën bucked against Jaskier, thrusting deep and coming <em>hard</em>, grunting and groaning his way through it. Jaskier felt the gush of come inside and groaned. They were such a mess, but fuck he loved it, he loved that the others would smell Coën on him for days.</p><p>The Witcher went slack behind him, breath quickly returning to normal. “Will you stay the night?” he asked, kissing around the edges of Jaskier's new bruise.</p><p>“Of course.” Jaskier didn't mention the fact that his legs didn't work at the moment and walking back to Geralt's room tonight was probably a health hazard.</p><p>Coën got up and fetched a cloth, wiping Jaskier clean before settling them into bed. He produced a bottle of wine from somewhere and handed it to Jaskier with a smirk. “I promised a night cap.”</p><p>“That you did.” Jaskier drank deep and passed the bottle back. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep in Coën's firm arms, the fire slowly dying, but the room more than cozy.</p><p>~</p><p>Jaskier did not think of his Witchers as notches in the headboard, each was vibrant and different and amazing, their relationships so uniquely fulfilling. Geralt with his brooding intensity, once those eyes focused on him, Jaskier couldn't help but melt; Eskel was intense in a different way, his passion quiet but overwhelming, reciting poetry into Jaskier's neck as they fucked in Geralt's bed, the White Wolf dozing nearby. Lambert and Aiden had a feral nature about them, but in a different way, Lambert was all growls and bites, while Aiden preferred stalking across the bed before pouncing, kissing Jaskier breathless before starting on their shared wolf. And Coën, oh Coën was meticulous in insuring Jaskier's pleasure before he took his, it was almost maddening.</p><p>Coën did eventually invite Geralt to join them, watching with a burning gaze as Jaskier rode Geralt, his attention focused on Coën the whole time. Long baths in the hot spring turned into slow, afternoon long fucks, Geralt sucking Jaskier's cock while Coën ate him out. The nights Jaskier went to Lambert or Eskel's beds, they whispered sweet nothings about wishing they could see him with Coën. “You're probably beautiful together,” Lambert whispered, biting down on a nipple. “Rubbing his smooth head all over your fucking creamy skin...”</p><p>At the end of another winter, Jaskier gathered them all in the front hall. Lambert was usually the first to leave, too restless to stay long after the passes cleared. Jaskier smoothed his cloak, making sure any open skin was covered against the cold. “You'll be careful this year,” he said. “I want to see you next winter.”</p><p>“Promise, song bird.” Lambert took his time exploring Jaskier's mouth, knowing it would be their last kiss for a year. He nibbled Jaskier's lips until they were rosy, planting one last smaller kiss at each corner before walking out into the lightly blowing snow.</p><p>Eskel left next, accepting Jaskier and Geralt's parting kisses, one arm around each. He rubbed his nose up Jaskier's cheek, then through Geralt's hair. “Next winter,” he said.</p><p>Coën left the same time they did, all of them standing in the front hall. Vesemir said his goodbyes earlier and left to attend to some chores, he didn't mind their after hours activities, but definitely didn't want to see them if he could avoid it. Jaskier pressed himself against Coën's chest, Geralt behind him and brushed his cheek against Coën's beard. “Will you be here next winter?”</p><p>Coën's eyes met Geralt's over Jaskier's shoulder and he nodded. “I believe so. May The Path be kind to you both.”</p><p>Deep kisses behind a locked bedroom door were one thing, and no matter how much Coën enjoyed licking Jaskier's most intimate places behind closed doors, here in the front hall, he pressed a chaste kiss to pretty pink lips before departing. Geralt gathered their things and they followed him out, starting down the mountain once more, looking forward to next winter.</p><p> </p><p>The End</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Aiden and Lambert getting up to death defying sex pleases me to no end.</p><p>I 1000% made up that play, The Wish Fish. It's sort of based on the Grimm Fairy Tale, The Fisherman and His Wife. I wanted to mention the Fishmonger's Daughter (because why is that even a song?) and that's how I managed to squeeze it in. I have no regrets.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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